Dove

 The fields of Flanders,
  Dove’s flying above.
  Not destroyed by ganders.
  Instead teenagers tread in love.
  The breeze whistles away,
  Quiet and peaceful
   If only if it could stay this way,
   The green grass, not covered by diesel.

A mother waits all day for school to finish.
For both of her sons.
Her love shall never diminish
even in a world of guns.
A family in a frame.
However the frame would end up in a flame.

Boys of sixteen and seventeen,
Fresh from school.
  White tops stained with ketchup.
  Eager and brave.
  Foolish and stupid.
  Surely an adventure.
                                                      
 The fields of Flanders,
 Artillery flying above.
 Destroyed by ganders.
  Teenagers tread in blood.
  The screams whistle away
   Loud and destructive.
   Hope it doesn’t stay this way.
   Was all this productive?


A mother waits years for the war to finish
For both her sons.
Her fear shall never diminish,
Because of the world of guns.
A former family in a frame.
The end of their name.

Those boys all
Alone. Bang!
The ground
Exploding. In the trench
Like a mole.
Their youth stole.


The fields of Flanders
Once again Dove’s flying above.
Recovering from the fools.
Teenagers lay under the fields.
The silence erupts.
Silent and scarred.
It would never be the same,
ever again.

A mother has to wait no more.
No more fears,
Just her tears.
Her love never left
Neither did the world of guns.
A family in a frame
Now burnt in a flame.

Those boys lay to rest
Under Flanders fields.
Died for a cause
Never worth fighting for.
Only poppies remain now
Lest we forget.